I can’t sleep
every thing he said

swirls around
in a foamy mess
like clouds

looks like rain

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awake
the birds are early
they must know something
besides the dark
how peaceful to listen
to know God hears
every lonely chirp
from my heart

how do you teach poetry
shall you instruct
how to have a soul
in chairs, facing front
apple on the table
will you tell me how to feel
in alphabetical order
you would do well
to hold class
at the edge of the volcano
the center of the storm